


Best Friends

by A_Death_and_A_Maiden



Series: Yuri on Ice One Shots [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Porn With Plot, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, bad first time, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29428578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Death_and_A_Maiden/pseuds/A_Death_and_A_Maiden
Summary: Yuri’s fluent in the skating language. He can discuss, argue, comment, pronounce, express, allege, convey things like the lutz, the salchow, the blade, the deduction, the combination sequence, he can do the longest hydroblading in the modern history of skating and it is when he finally rises up from that pose slowly lifting himself up like hot Adonis on cold ice that the entire audience falls into collective reverence of silence, he can rotate seventy times in a single spin but Yuri Plisetsky for the life of him cannot find the three words to say to Otabek Altin.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Series: Yuri on Ice One Shots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128941
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Best Friends

**Author's Note:**

> First time sex is awkward when neither party knows what they are doing. Just something to watch out for.

Then, it happens. Otabek kisses his hand.

They are ransacking their McDonald's meals in their usual local joint in St. Petersburg on the Easter break. Yakov has gruffly agreed to let Team Russia get a break like good Christians (Yuri believes Yakov does it as a form of repentance for driving them into the ground for the upcoming competitions) and Otabek flew in from Almaty to spend the holiday with Yuri even though Otabek is Muslim and he doesn’t follow Easter traditions like Yuri does. They pop in a local church for a mandatory visit (and a selfie because Yakov) and then they spend time mainly hanging out in the city checking out places off the beaten path, sometimes going to bars and clubs, eating everything from sushi to pizza (no selfie because Yakov) or browsing clothes market stalls for crazy animal prints. In the evenings they watch films and listen to the music in Otabek’s hotel room until they drift to sleep on the same bed (Lilia and Yakov call like twenty-five times and threaten to report him missing until Yuri drags his ass home in the early hours of the morning). Best holiday ever, says Yuri and Otabek agrees.

Yuri and Otabek are sitting at a corner table to minimize chances of being recognized and mobbed by fans, their McDonald’s meals are laid in the middle of the table and Yuri feels to no shame to dig into what Otabek has ordered, Otabek doesn’t mind. By now Otabek is used to Yuri nationalizing his clothes, his blanket, his mobile phone and Otabek would be worried if Yuri wouldn’t express a desire at something he owns. There is a drop of the sauce on the corner of Otabek’s lip and Yuri reaches out across the table to clean it with his thumb, a seemingly innocent gesture. Otabek just turns into his hand and plants a gentle kiss on his palm. Then, the Kazakh digs into his fries as if nothing has happened. Yuri examines his palm in the privacy of his bedroom in Lilia and Yakov’s apartment. He tries to find any proof of Otabek’s kiss. Not that there hasn’t been signs. Otabek’s hand on Yuri’s smaller back when they are having drinks in a club. A playful slap of Otabek’s towel on Yuri’s naked ass in the common showers of their competition venues. 

Six months later Yuri Plisetsky finishes the last day of his preparation for the Worlds by trying to kill himself hitting the ice seven times because last weekend he turned eighteen years old and since then he has been living in the greatest misery of his life. Yakov looks like he has suffered seven minor strokes and will just fucking die. When Otabek opens his hotel room door to the knock, Victor Nikiforov is the last person Otabek expects to see but Otabek is not surprised, it is self-explanatory. Otabek has a long-haul layover in St. Petersburg for his flight to Almaty, he checks in his regular hotel that has seen so many happy OtaYuri moments, grabs a quick bite to eat (hotel food is not great but not terrible, either), then heads to Yuri’s training rink where Victor happily picks him through security and then they both witness Yuri’s agony on the ice. Otabek wants to approach Yuri after Yakov finally bellows at him to get the fuck out of his ice but Yuri skates away before Otabek even manages to say hi. The lockers aren’t off-limit to him but Otabek has enough common sense and enough Yuri-experience to know that anyone opening the locker room door right now is going to enter Heaven with martyrdom.

“He’s been in love with you since Barcelona but he can’t find the words to tell you.”- Victor’s words are like the curtain on stage that has just been lifted to display what’s on. Otabek is surprised at how unsurprised he actually is because he seems to have had a very good perspective of what’s behind that curtain. He has been waiting to hear something like this. It is the only way things could have turned out for them, Yuri and him. Otabek can pinpoint it to the very moment it started for him. It was during one of their antics hopping on budget airlines weekend breaks to depart from St. Petersburg and Almaty respectively and meet up in the same destination be it in Helsinki, Berlin, Rome or Paris, even if it was for a couple of hours until their return flights started boarding. Sometimes they had half a day or longer, so they walked the streets of foreign cities buying take-out coffees and sandwiches, filling stray cats’ feeding stations with cat food, climbing panorama vantage points and browsing thrift stores for quirky fashions. It was on one of those trips that they casually held hands and Otabek felt he wants to keep onto holding Yuri’s warm hand and never consider letting him go. Yuri then was looking at how a stray cat was lapping at its food and Otabek felt that Yuri’s face of the moment will be living in his mind rent free until the second coming of Christ. The puzzle of these happy moments lasted for three years and on Yuri’s eighteenth birthday it broke into pieces. 

That is so true, Yuri’s linguistic disability. Yuri’s fluent in the skating language. He can discuss, argue, comment, pronounce, express, allege, convey things like the lutz, the salchow, the blade, the deduction, the combination sequence, he can do the longest hydroblading in the modern history of skating and it is when he finally rises up from that pose slowly lifting himself up like hot Adonis on cold ice that the entire audience falls into collective reverence of silence, he can rotate seventy times in a single spin but Yuri Plisetsky for the life of him cannot find the three words to say to Otabek Altin. Instead, he hits the ice seven times as substitution. That’s why now Otabek is standing in the middle of his hotel room, hands over his head with fingers locked in his hair, eyes burning a hole in the ceiling, feeling himself to be legally the stupidest person in the entire world because there’s just nothing he can do about any of it. 

Otabek has more life experience than Yuri although his life experience qualification is only three years longer than Yuri’s. But Otabek knows what it’s like to hit eighteen. Adulthood. Full age. Voting and marriage. Full accountability for one’ actions. 

Including sex.

Otabek knows, he hopes Yuri would want sex with him. Otabek craves for the idea of having sex with Yuri. Now, when the dangerous age of non-consensual was finally safely left behind, there is an entirely new world to explore. For both of them. Otabek knows Yuri hit the ice seven times because Yuri was angry, too. Yuri was angry with those moments that could not be fulfilled earlier- a hold of hands that could not last longer than friendly-comfortable, a peck of a kiss on a cheek for congratulations that was devoid of any tongue, a knock on the bathroom door if the sound of a running shower was on; Otabek’s personal worst moment was in an airport when they were in a cafe waiting for their gates to be announced, it was when Yuri lapped at his yogurt just like that cat lapped at its food, my God, Otabek could watch how Yuri eats his yogurt until the end of days, and there was this drop of yogurt on the corner of Yuri’s lips and Otabek just couldn’t reach out and wipe it away with his finger. He felt that was the line he shouldn’t cross. Not that he didn’t want to, but because he was afraid. Is there a manual for how one tells their best friend that one desperately wants to fuck them? That was a problem. Otabek doesn’t want Yuri’s bottom to be hitting the ice anymore, Otabek wants Yuri’s bottom to be hitting his bed sheets. Otabek’s love for Yuri is both emotional and physical and sex is part of the package and he just hopes Yuri feels the same. Wanting Yuri and not having him is poison in Otabek’s blood and he knows he is close to starting hitting the ice himself. 

“Sort it out,”- says Victor and leaves. 

Otabek just texts Yuri his hotel room number and asks if Yuri can make it. He keeps it short, he doesn’t explain anything. The message seems somewhat of a stress call but, come to think about it, isn’t that right? 

Yuri doesn’t disappoint. There is their secret knock on the door twenty minutes later. Otabek opens the door and Yuri storms inside, immediately filling the whole room with his personality that’s larger than life. Yuri drops a bag on the floor, heads to the bathroom and shuts the door after himself with a loud thud.

“Man, I thought I was gonna pee over myself in that elevator. You got food?” Yup, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, that’s Yuri Plisetsky.

Otabek cannot think about anything else than the bag Yuri has dropped on the floor by the doors. It’s an overnight bag, the kind Yuri would pack for their secret-not-so-secret escapes around Europe, Otabek is sure their social media posts gave both Yakov and Victor many mornings a migraine, he makes a mental note to himself one day to apologize to them. Yuri is obviously counting on staying the night in Otabek’s room. Otabek doesn’t know if there has ever been a moment in his life when he felt happier than this. 

Yuri leaves the bathroom and as he slides down the hood of his over-sized hoodie, his tell-tale blond locks light Otabek’s room up. Yuri’s hair is still pleated neatly from today’s hitting the ice marathon but he has obviously gone home to change and now he is wearing a dark blue over-sized hoodie, a pair of slim black jeans with open knees that he will probably never grow out of and Otabek doesn’t want him to, and a pair of simple classic white Nike sneakers duly supplied by the brand he’s promoting. Otabek suddenly feels overdressed in his long-sleeved white shirt and classic blue jeans. 

It’s the moment Otabek has been waiting for. Yuri has packed an overnight bag. Yuri wants to spend the night with him. Otabek watches Yuri. Yuri watches Otabek. Otabek takes one step closer. Yuri takes one step closer. Otabek takes one step closer. Yuri takes one step closer. Otabek takes one step closer. Yuri takes one step closer. Their foreheads touch against each other. Hot breath on the face. Otabek wraps his arms around Yuri’s waist, Yuri wraps his hands around Otabek’s neck. They don’t speak. They don’t kiss. They just look each other in the eye and breath, which is more difficult than it seems. 

“We’ll take it slow,”- whispers Otabek. Yuri just nods. Then they finally kiss. A tender, tentative, tense, tasty, timid, temperate, tight, timeless and transcendental brush of lips. Otabek turns the main room lights off and turns on the small bedside lamp that casts more shadow than actual light. They sit down on opposite parts of Otabek’s bed and start quietly undressing themselves, keeping themselves back to back as their clothes pile on the floor. This is not locker room showers where it’s purely professional. Both seem to be intimidated by the possibility to witness stark nakedness of each other because that’s where the treasured fragile ‘just friends’ ends, then Otabek slides under the blanket and holds it up for Yuri to join him. Their bodies touch against each other and for one long awkward moment it seems that neither of them know what to do next but both realize that ‘just friends’ has just ended. 

Otabek lifts himself upon one elbow and hovers over Yuri, who lies flat still but his bluegreen eyes nervously dart all over Otabek’s face. Otabek uses his free hand to undo Yuri’s hair and his move is met with a smile. Otabek lowers his head for another soft and gentle kiss and Yuri sighs into Otabek’s mouth. Taking things slowly was probably not a very good idea to begin with though generally Otabek is considered to be a man of his word. He is soon on top of Yuri, holding Yuri’s wrists and pinning Yuri’s hands on both sides of his face while trying to make himself comfortable between Yuri’s legs. But then he buries his head in the crook of Yuri’s shoulder with a sigh, still not letting go of Yuri’s wrists. There has never been a more uncomfortable moment in Otabek’s life and he suddenly thinks of hitting the ice as saving grace. Yuri’s body beneath him is one big flaming heat, Otabek realizes their first time is about to combust and set the entire city ablaze. Neither of them is ready for the real thing as their first time and both have enough common sense to understand that. 

“Is it OK if you just rub it this time?”- Yuri’s voice drives into the silence like a skate blade. Otabek is immensely relieved.  
“Yes,”- he agrees. Otabek locks both Yuri’s wrists in his hand, he cannot believe how tiny Yuri’s wrists actually are, and pins them over Yuri’s head, then he lifts himself on one knee -this increases the power of the pining and Yuri just inhales loudly, digs the toes of the other leg into the mattress, then with his free hand locates his cock and starts rubbing it against Yuri’s thigh. Yuri gasps, moans, tries to writhe away but Otabek is just too heavy. Otabek closes his eyes, starts panting and a hot shiver of guilt pleasure overtakes his body. 

When it’s over, Otabek takes a look at Yuri’s face and freezes. Yuri is lying motionless on one side, turned away from Otabek and tucked under the blanket up to his chin. Otabek suddenly feels he has made the biggest mistake in his life, the damage that is irreparable; Otabek feels he has broken something very precious and very fragile and it cannot be replaced.  
“I hurt you,”- says Otabek.  
“No. I came on my own. I asked you to rub it. It’s my fault.”

_It’s my fault._

Otabek escapes the bed like it’s a nest of wasps. Yuri sits up, clutching the blanket like a protective shield against himself.  
“Otabek, what’s wrong?”  
“Everything’s wrong! I hurt you! I _fucking_ hurt you! And it’s _not_ your fault!”  
“Beka, I came on my own…”  
“It doesn’t matter!”

Their eyes lock for a moment and trembling Otabek kneels on the floor next to Yuri. He finds Yuri’s hands and takes them into his, then he starts kissing them, every finger by finger. He wants to show Yuri how gentle and grateful he can be. He buries his face into the blanket on Yuri’s lap and a silent cry escapes from his chest. Otabek silently cries and Yuri runs his hand over and over and over and over Otabek’s hair in a calming manner and Otabek hates every moment of it because he feels he doesn’t deserve compassion from Yuri whom he has just hurt like the worst criminal. Yuri’s wrists give a dull ache and there will be some bruising tomorrow. 

“We need a safe word,”- says Yuri. Otabek looks up from where he’s been crying, his face is wet with tears and that reflects in the dim light of the room. He cannot believe Yuri still wants to continue this after his royal Kazakh fuck-up the size of Saturn.  
“Red is an immediate stop, yellow is a pause and green is a go,”- says Yuri, -”how does that sound?”  
Otabek swallows hard, brushes his face against the blanket on Yuri’s lap to dry those wet tear traces of his face. He rests his face there, not wanting to look up. 

“What just happened, what colour would it be?”-Otabek speaks but he cannot recognize his own voice.  
Yuri ponders for a few seconds.  
“Yellow,”- he says and Otabek inhales loudly. He did hurt his Yuri. He feels Yuri’s warm hands, caressing him.  
“It’s all right, Beka. I didn’t say stop. You would have stopped, right?”  
Otabek is shell-shocked.

“Of course, Yuri! Who do you think I am?!”-Otabek jumps on his feet and roars angrily at Yuri,- “of course I would have stopped if you said stop!”  
“Otabek…,”- says Yuri as he blushes so much that even the dimmed light of the bedside lamp cannot hide it and focuses his stare on the wall opposite the bed as if it’s a lifeline, -”you are naked, can you just not flash your cock in my face, please?”  
“Oh my God,”- gasps Otabek immediately covering his private parts with his palms, -”I’m so sorry, Yuri, I didn’t realize…”  
“It’s OK, it’s just…”  
“Too quick?”  
Yuri nods. 

Otabek picks the corner of the blanket on Yuri’s side of the bed and slides under it, nudging Yuri to slide onto his previous side of the bed and now they have exchanged bed sides. They sit shoulder to shoulder, backs against the backrest of the bed, and uncomfortably stare at the wall opposite the bed as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world and they feel themselves really and honestly dumb. Otabek for a fraction of a second has this terrible idea to hide himself in the bathroom, turn on the shower to muffle the sound of his voice and call Victor for advice. Yuri snickers. Otabek groans.  
“So.”  
“So.”  
“So, what is green for you?”- asks Otabek and takes Yuri’s hand. He knows, he hopes he can hold Yuri’s hand for unlimited amount of time. There’s no rush. They’ve got all the time in the world. Except this is a bloody layover, he has a plane to Almaty to catch.  
“I love you,”- says Yuri.  
Otabek inhales deeply and lifts Yuri’s hand for a kiss just in time to stop ‘I know, Victor told me’ escaping his lips. Probably, the best decision in his life even though the Roman Catholic church will suffer insufferable loss of not adding Otabek Altin on their official list of saints.  
“I love you, too.”  
“What exactly do we have, Otabek? A long distance friendship with benefits?”  
“Relationship,”- says Otabek, -”I would like it to be a long distance relationship. With benefits, of course.”  
“Do you think it can work?”  
“There’s only one way to see. And I’d rather regret something that we tried and it didn’t work than regret something we never tried.”  
Yuri thinks for a minute.  
“OK,”- says Yuri, -”let’s try.”  
Otabek hugs Yuri and sighs into his neck.  
“Otabek? Are you OK?”  
“Yeah. I just want to hold you as my best friend for the last time.”

The End


End file.
